


You Are My Something

by grdnofevrythng



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grdnofevrythng/pseuds/grdnofevrythng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana goes to New Haven after the events in "Feud" so...spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Something

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is what happens when my gf and I are sitting on the couch discussing Quinntana. So this is written for [Jill](pokeitlikejello.tumblr.com). I hope you'll enjoy. As always, any mistakes are mine.

Santana fumes the whole train ride up to New Haven. It was late when she left Brooklyn, but whatever, where is she going to go? She knows zero people in New York and she wasn’t about to grovel and beg Kurt and Rachel to let her stay. She doesn’t need them. They need her. She’s just trying to do them a favor. Next time, she just won’t be nice. She’s just lucky Quinn sent her that Metro North pass and she has the extra cash to take a cab directly to Yale. She has to pull up an old email to find out which dorm Quinn’s in, but Yale’s still pretty easy to get onto and when she arrives in front of Quinn’s building, she lucks up. There’s a drunk frat guy sitting outside, and he’s all up on her before she even attempts to flirt with him to get inside. 

She casually drops that she’s a lesbian and he has no shot at getting any, after he signs her in, and heads on up the stairs. She asks around until someone tells her that Quinn’s room is on the third floor and the fourth door from the left. Really Yale’s security is even more lax than Nyada’s, but maybe things are just safer here at an Ivy or something. She tries the knob and is annoyed that it’s locked and fuck if Quinn’s not there she’ll be so pissed. She knocks loudly and then crosses her arms, glaring at people as they walk by, nearly tripping over her suitcase. 

The door opens and Quinn’s looking at her in surprise. “Santana? What are you doing here?” She asks and Santana’s just going to ignore that the girl’s hair is a total wreck and that she’s wiping at her mouth like she’s just been caught drooling on her pillow. It’s not even ten yet and it’s a fucking Thursday night, but Quinn’s really that lame sometimes.

Without bothering to answer, Santana pushes inside and she hears Quinn’s protests, but not before she sees a girl, dark hair and tan skin, Quinn clearly has a type, scrambling to button up her shirt. She isn’t even going to comment because right now she doesn’t really care. She just looks at the girl and narrows her eyes when the girl stares back. “Don’t just stare; get the fuck out.” 

The girl scrambles past her and Santana shakes her head when she views the shaggy cut and plaid of her shirt. Just gross. The door closes and she hears Quinn let out that annoyed sigh she seems to reserve only for Santana. Only it’s like the dam is finally starting to break and before Santana can even stop it, her body is shaking and tears are rolling down her cheeks. She tries to take a deep breath, but she can only hiccup out a sob. 

Quinn’s at her side instantly, moving her to the bed and sitting down. She pulls Santana into her arms, and somehow they end up with her sitting across Quinn’s lap. “S, what happened? You’re kind of freaking me out,” she says softly. 

“They threw me _out_!” She’s still pretty shocked about it, but she’s been too mad to process it. Now she’s so mad she can’t stop crying. “They fucking threw me out because Rachel’s stupid boyfriend is shady as fuck, but she’s too stubborn to listen to reason.” 

The room is silent for a moment save for Santana’s sobs. Quinn rocks her a little and normally she’d hate that. Only it’s really comforting and she’s not going to question it. She just lets Quinn stroke her hair and rub her back. “So, did you calmly tell Rachel that you didn’t like Brody or did you do that thing you always do where you go in, guns blazing and full of insults?” 

Her sobs have quieted somewhat. So when she fixes Quinn with a glare, it’s somewhat effective, but Quinn just rolls her eyes and glares back. “Don’t look at me like that. You know what I’m talking about. I wondered how long it would take before something like this happened.” 

“Oh don’t tell me you’re on Rachel’s side. I really don-”

“Oh God, Santana, will you calm down? I’m not taking a side because I only know yours and I’m sure there’s a lot of truth to what you’re saying, but don’t forget that I also _know_ you.” Yeah, Santana’s still not liking where this is going, but she’d have to stand up to kick Quinn’s ass and she’s kind of comfortable. “I didn’t like Brody either, but you know Rachel. She’s not going to listen to reason without blatant evidence. Which...do you even have any? Or are you relying on that Latina third eye bullshit you’ve been spouting lately?” 

“It’s a Mexican third eye and I don’t need a lecture from you, Quinn. So, just save it.” Comfortable or not, Quinn can go fuck herself if she thinks Santana’s going to sit here and listen to this crap.

Quinn just presses her lips together like she’s trying to be patient and looks at her. “Are you finished?” When Santana just stays silent, she nods. “I’m not going to lecture you, but if you’re going to show up every time you fight with Kurt and Rachel, I’d at least like some notice. I mean your train ride wasn’t exactly short.” 

Santana relaxes and actually manages a watery smile, as she sniffles. She reaches across Quinn’s bed and grabs a napkin to start wiping her face. “Yeah, because if you’re going to have ugly bitches like that in your bed, you’re going to want to hide them.” 

“Yeah, we’re not going to do this. You can stay, but we’re not going to talk about... _her._ ” She can see the flush on Quinn’s face and she just smiles even wider. 

“We totally are, but first you’re going to buy me ice cream.” She stands and helps Quinn to her feet. “So get dressed, preferably not in one of those Laura Ingall’s numbers. Butch it up.” 

Quinn looks at her quizzically. “Wait is this some sort of date? Because I’m pretty sure if you’re doing the asking, you should be the one paying.” 

The normalcy of this conversation isn’t lost on Santana, but the vibe is a nice one. So, she’s not going to ruin it by calling attention to it. She just places her hand on her hips and eyes Quinn in her boy shorts and some t-shirt with a band on it that she’s sure Quinn has never actually heard of but is wearing because of her little date. 

“You can keep on that ridiculous shirt, but you’re definitely paying. Just put on some jeans and come on.” She already moving to Quinn’s mirror and fixing her make-up. 

Quinn mumbles something under her breath and opens a drawer, actually pulling out a pair of jeans that still have the tags on them. “Hey, I’ll shoot Rachel an email tomorrow,” she says when another silence falls between them. 

Santana pauses at that, her expression drawn. “You don’t have to do that.”

There’s a nod and Quinn’s buttoning up her jeans. “I’m not. I’m just going to...check in with her. I’ve been ignoring her emails again is all.” 

They both know it’s kind of a lie, but it’s one Santana needs to hear right now. “Yeah...thanks.” She turns back to the mirror again and studies her reflection. Her eyes are still red and puffy, but they aren’t nearly as bad as they were. 

“You look perfect,” Quinn says, stepping into the mirror behind her. She’s messing with her own hair and Santana has to admit she looks really hot dressed like this. She just doesn’t say it out loud. “Let’s get this date over with.”

Santana smirks. “Bitch please, you know it’s a privilege to take me out. Don’t act like you’re above it.” She meets Quinn’s eyes in the mirror and the blonde’s just smirking back.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


End file.
